


Copacetic

by gravityinglass



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, Growing Up, Kidfic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-02
Updated: 2012-12-02
Packaged: 2017-11-20 02:53:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/580491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gravityinglass/pseuds/gravityinglass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, life isn’t what you want it to be. But sometimes, it’s perfectly copacetic. And sometimes, copacetic lets you down. Ziam.<br/>The story of Zayn and Liam's lives in thirteen parts, growing up together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Copacetic

**Author's Note:**

> Reposted from my tumblr, but it's honestly one of my favorite things to have written ever. Present for Taylor (carabasdemarquis on tumblr) and...yeah.  
> Disclaimer: The story's mine. The people not so much.

**i.  The Childhood (Half of Our Lives, Sanctus Real)**   
_We should go to bed/but we’ll catch fireflies instead/we can’t go to sleep cause we’ll wake up older._

A tapping on his window distracted Liam from his homework. He pushed it up and found Zayn leaning on the windowsill.

“I told you, I have homework!” Liam said, but not really angrily. Zayn just grinned.

“Live a little, Payne!” He grabbed Liam’s hand and pulled him out the window so they both tumbled into the tall grass there, into a tangle of long limbs that neither of them had really grown into yet.

Liam huffed but followed Zayn to where their bikes were propped against the wall of Zayn’s house, and they were off, racing towards the lake a mile away.

As the only two homes at the end of a very long dirt road, the two boys were inseparable, just like their older sisters were.

Zayn was the natural leader, the natural adventurer who couldn’t stand being cooped up inside, the one who insisted they explore. In town, at school, the roles were reversed, Liam naturally taking the lead in the crowded situations that Zayn preferred to avoid, but out here, in their own little world, Liam would follow Zayn anywhere.

They dropped their bikes in the tall grass and went looking for fireflies. Zayn unearthed the glass jars they’d nicked from Liam’s mum, and they went firefly-hunting, on the rocky beach they claimed as their own. Liam caught a small trio of fireflies in his jar, and showed it to Zayn, who beamed and showed him his own jar, with two little luminous bugs inside.

They played on the beach, clambering up trees and looking for new hiding places, although they knew this area like breathing.

They only went back to their homes when they could hear Liam’s mum yelling down the dirt lane for them to come inside for dinner.

Zayn, of course, tagged along to the Payne’s for dinner—he was always hungry, always, and he loved how big and loving the Payne’s family was, so different from his sickly mother, distant father and three practically alien sisters.

Of course, Liam’s older sisters teased Liam and Zayn, and tried to drag Liam off to try makeup on, because he had such long eyelashes and delicate facial features that he would of course be so perfect. Zayn got revenge and stole Liam back when he released a jar of frogs into their bed.

Liam joined him as they watched from the upper floor landing, giggling as Liam’s sisters shrieked and tried to shoo the frogs out the door. That was the best part of their friendship. They lived for the tricks they played on their sisters—the frogs, the salt switched with the sugar, the little pranks that declared the house and the surrounding land their territory. The territory that belonged onto to Liam and Zayn, Zayn and Liam.

Later that night, when they were full and tucked side-by-side into Liam’s bed, Zayn rolled over and quickly kissed Liam on the cheek.

“I love you,” he mumbled, before closing his eyes and slipping into sleep. Liam smiled and curled into Zayn’s side.

“I love you too.”

* * *

 

**ii.  The Friendships (Oh My MyMy, Taylor Swift)  
** _Take me back to the house and the backyard tree/said you’d beat me up/you were bigger than me/you never did/you never did._

Liam had always been in love with Zayn for as long as he could remember. That was just the way the world went—2+2=4, the sky is blue, water is wet, Liam is in love with Zayn. At some point, he supposed it would amount to something. Or be a problem, one or the other. But Liam was in love with Zayn, and he would follow him anywhere.

They weren’t kids anymore, they were teenagers, with limbs too long for their bodies and minds too inquisitive to let well enough alone.

Liam had his first girlfriend, a pretty brunette girl named Clara. Zayn never dated, for whatever reason, although he had at least three flings that Liam knew about. Liam never pressed to know more—when Zayn was quiet, it was usually for a good reason.

In town, there were three boys, always together—Louis, Harry, and Niall—and they ran the town. For some reason, they liked picking on Zayn, maybe because he never fought, just sank deeper into his jacket or took a drag on his cigarette.

So they started bugging Liam, trying to get a rise out of Zayn.

And it worked. Zayn punched Harry, and from then on, whenever they were in town, they were five rather than two.

Liam preferred it when it was just them, Zayn and Liam, Liam and Zayn. And that wasn’t because Niall was always borrowing Zayn for help on projects or whatever. He wasn’t jealous. That wasn’t it at all.

Except it  _was_. Zayn was his best friend, not Niall fucking Horan’s. He wanted his friend back.

The summer they were sixteen was one of the best summers of Liam’s life.They spent long days down by the river, Liam reading through their summer reading list, Zayn skipping stones and sketching the familiar scenery and Liam.

When he drew Liam, he could do it from memory. He knew the shapes that made up his best friend’s face better than he knew his own. So when Liam’s forehead furrowed in thought, Zayn sketched the wrinkles delicately, creating a perfect rendition of Liam on his paper.

Even though he knew Liam’s expressions well and could read him easily, there was something inscrutable in this particular expression. Instead of addressing it, Zayn just kept sketching, not prying. Liam would tell him in his own time.

Liam continuously snuck glances at Zayn over the top of  _1984_. Zayn had been acting off for ages, ever since Liam had started dating Clara. It was weird, sort of, like they were missing each other by a second and were out of sync for the first time in their lives. Liam didn’t like it.

He remembered how his mum always described them—“one soul, two bodies. They’ll be best friends forever”—and thought that wasn’t quite true right now.

Sometimes, he wondered if it was because of Clara. Or maybe because he’d been spending so much time with Louis and Harry, which had been kind of unavoidable because they were all working on a group project together and if they wanted to pass—which Liam did—they had to spend time together. That was over now, though, but Liam still hung out with them occasionally. Whatever the reason, Liam didn’t like it. He wanted his best friend back, and he wanted to know what was wrong.

 “You mad at me?” Liam finally asked. “About Clara and all? Because, I swear, if you have a thing for her, we’ll break up.”

Zayn looked horrified. “No. No! You’re my best friend, Liam. I’m glad you’re happy. I just miss hanging out with you.”

“You should’ve said!” Liam lightly punched Zayn in the shoulder, then went back to his book.

“I love you,” Zayn said easily, staring up at the leafy green cover above their heads and the sunlight that filtered through.

“I love you too.” Liam paused. “Maybe we should stop saying that. At least, in public.”

Zayn’s heart sank. “What do you mean?” He dug in his pockets and produced his packet of cigarettes and is lighter.

“People might get the wrong idea.” Zayn didn’t offer a cigarette to Liam—he already knew what Liam’s answer would be. “I mean, I love you, but…we’re teenagers. And it was easier when we were kids, you know?” Liam said, shooting a disapproving look at Zayn’s cigarette. Zayn knew exactly what Liam wanted him to do and promptly ignored it, taking another drag. Liam wasn’t the boss of him, although, if he was honest with himself, that was  _exactly_  what Liam was. “We didn’t have to care what other people thought.”

“Except we do, now.”

“Yeah, we do.” Liam agreed. “But come on. We’ve still got three summers and two years left, right? So we should stop worrying.”

And so Zayn did stop worrying. If Liam said things were going to be fine, they were going to be fine. When he got bored with sketching, he tackled Liam and sent 1984 flying. Laughing, they fell onto the grass, limbs tangling in a familiar way.

The worry that had been tightening in his gut drifted off into the summer sky. He had Liam and Liam had Zayn, and that was the way it was always going to be.

He stayed lighthearted for the rest of the summer, even when Harry and Niall pulled pranks on them and when Louis got kicked out of his house temporarily for coming out and had to crash on Zayn’s sofa until Harry caught wind of it and read Louis’ parents the riot act. It was even easy to be happy and unworried when both Harry and Louis’ parents started going through divorces at the same time and Niall, Liam and Zayn had to devise a schedule to handle panic attacks and the why-don’t-they-love-me calls.

He comforted Liam when Clara broke up with him, and promptly dragged him out on a camping excursion that lasted all the way up until school began, just so they could sleep under the skies and not have to worry about how Liam’s phone was undoubtedly exploding with calls or how Harry and Louis kept trying to convince them to break into Clara’s house to shave her head or how Niall tried to bury Liam’s emotions in junk food.

It was Zayn and Liam, Liam and Zayn again, and everything was right with the world.

* * *

 

**iii.  University (September, Daughtry)  
** _Reflecting now on how things could have been/it was worth it in the end._

Zayn lounged on Liam’s bed, watching as his friend folded clothes and packed them into boxes alongside books and his duvet, and everything that made this little room so much Liam’s. Zayn would never admit it, but he was afraid.  For the first time, they were going on their own paths, and Zayn couldn’t follow where Liam was going.

“America’s a long way away,” he said instead of the worries churning through his mind. “Make sure you come back to visit.”

“You could come with me,” Liam suggested quietly, not meeting Zayn’s eyes as he taped the last box shut. “You, me, New York City. We could make it work.”

“I’ve got to take care of Mum,” Zayn said sadly. “I need to be here. I can go in a few years.”

“But  _I_  need you too!” Liam finally yelled, throwing the roll of tape down. “ _I_  need you, Zayn, and I can’t go alone.” He crossed the room in two strides to sit next to Zayn on the bed. He leaned on Zayn’s shoulder, and Zayn’s arm came up around him. “I don’t think either of us can do this alone.”

“We’re gonna have to.” Zayn turned so he was facing Liam. “You all packed?”

Liam nodded, not sure where Zayn was headed with this.

“Come on, we’ll have one last night. And we’ll make do with what we’d got left.” Zayn stood and tugged Liam over to the window. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

And like he used to, Liam ducked out the window and followed Zayn into the dusky twilight.

They stopped by Zayn’s house, where he retrieved a black backpack, and then walked the three miles to town, and once they got there, the sun really was setting.

“So, what are we doing?” Liam asked, shivering and wishing he’d brought a jumper. Zayn swung the bag off his shoulder and tossed a grey wad of fabric at Liam. The taller boy laughed when he unfurled it—it was Zayn’s football sweatshirt. He pulled it over his head and looked at Zayn expectantly.

“We’re going to get Niall, Harry, and Louis back for all the pranks they’ve pulled on us over the years,” Zayn said proudly, brandishing the bag. “TP for Niall, and I hid some stuff in the back of the school for Harry and Louis.”

What Zayn had for Harry and Louis sent Liam into a fit of giggles—and he’s so, so proud of his best friend in that moment. “How did you think of this?”

“Figured we needed to get you ready for college pranking. Now help me with the salt.”

They sneak in through Louis’ window and empty enough salt on his floor to leave it at least three inches deep. Louis’ mum is going to  _kill_  them if she ever found out.

At Harry’s house, they carefully drenched his hair in the temporary hair dye they found—for at least a week, Harry hair was going to be sparkly silver streaked through with neon green—and duct tape cups filled with water to his door, which would hopefully make opening it a challenge.

They tossed toilet paper over trees at Niall’s house and added some of the silver hair dye to his hair. Zayn wanted to fill his floor with popcorn, but they couldn’t pop nearly enough and Liam pointed out that Niall wouldn’t think of it as a prank but rather a gift from the food fairies.

It was three AM by the time they began their walk back to their houses at the end of the dirt road. They talked, about anything and everything that hadn’t been said in the past sixteen years of friendship, not that there was much left to be said.

The next morning, when Liam loaded his things in the back of his mum’s van, Zayn stood on his front porch and pulled his leather jacket tighter around himself.

Liam stepped up the steps and wrapped his arms around Zayn, hugging tightly for what may be the last time for years.He pulled back, and Zayn’s face was right there, and he couldn’t help himself—he pressed a soft, quick kiss to Zayn’s lips before darting down the steps and bounding into the car.

As Liam disappeared down the road, Zayn touched his lips and smiled.

* * *

**iv. Separation (Scars, Jonny Diaz)**

_And the hole that it left there inside of his chest/is a canyon a thousand miles deep/we all know how that feels._

_“_ Oi, Malik!” A familiar Irish accent called, immediately drawing Zayn’s attention.

“What do you want, Horan?” he called back, his tone making it clear he was joking. “I thought I told you not to come round here anymore!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Niall said, jogging down the front porch steps to stand beside Zayn. “Your mum was telling me embarrassing stories about your childhood, it was too good a chance to pass up.”

“Did she tell you the one about the—”

“The cricket bat? Yeah, she did.” Zayn winced while Niall laughed.

In the past three years, Niall and Zayn had grown close, but not nearly as close as Zayn and Liam had been, or as close as Harry and Louis were. They were just good friends who both attended the police academy and stuck around their old hometown.

“Have you heard anything from Liam?” Niall asked as they walked around the back of the house to where Zayn’s sister’s rabbits were kept. “Is he coming back, or?”

“Haven’t heard anything different since I saw you two days ago, Horan,” Zayn said. “Nothing, as always.”

Liam had written long emails daily for his first month away, but over the following months, his letters had tapered off until they hadn’t come at all. Now, three years after his departure, Zayn hadn’t heard from Liam in well over a year and a half.

Niall looked at Zayn sympathetically. “You mean he hasn’t called?”

Zayn shook his head miserably. “That obvious?”

“Little bit, yeah. I think we all knew you two were in love back when we were twelve.” Niall scuffed his foot on the ground. “I think everyone knows it. Even Liam, a little bit. You know, he’ll always come back.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Zayn shook his head and straightened up. “So, what’d you come out here for?”

“I’m getting married to Cher, and I was hoping you’d be my best man.”

Zayn’s expression of shock caused Niall to double over laughing. “Are you serious?” he finally choked out, gaping at Niall. “No offense, but  _you_? Married?”

Niall shook his head, finally getting his laugher under control. “Yes, I’m getting married. So. Would you?”

“Why not Louis or Harry?”

“You’ve met them, right? If I picked one or the other, the gloating would go on for decades. And, believe it or not, you’re one of my best friends. So. What do you say?”

“If I say no, you’re just going to have Harry and Louis duel to the death, aren’t you?”

Niall laughed. “Exactly! So it’s a yes?”

“It’s a yes.”

…

Liam groaned as he dropped his stack of library books onto the counter.

He’d been swamped with school work, trying to complete his double major degree in three years rather than four, and he missed the slow pace of home. He’d been sending weekly letters to Zayn but not getting anything back.

Zayn was probably busy. Liam’s mum kept him updated—Zayn was taking care of his mum, with her cancer, and studying at the police academy with Niall Horan, and he wasn’t dating anyone, and sometimes Liam didn’t want to know so much because it hurt knowing all these things about Zayn but not being able to see him.

“Doing a big project?” a soft voice asked, accented like his. He turned in surprise, shocked to hear the familiar tones of an English accent in place of the brash American vowels he’d gotten used to hearing, and there was the most beautiful girl he’d seen in his life.

“Murdoch’s Organic  Chem class,” he explained, gesturing to the title. “The big project in relation to modern science and daily living.”

“Ah. See, I wouldn’t know that,” the girl said, picking up the books the desk clerk efficiently checked out and helping Liam put them in the canvas bag he used to carry his library books. “I’m a performing arts major, getting a minor in accounting. What are you studying?”

“Veterinary Medicine and Journalism,” he said promptly. “Not much overlap, but they’re both things I really love.”

“I’d bet, if you’re double majoring in them. So, where you from?”

Liam named his town, not expecting her to know where it was considering how small it was, but her eyes light up. “I grew up thirty kilometers from there! Small world, yeah?”

“I guess so!” He follows her out of the library and into the bright spring sunshine. “I’m sorry, I never introduced myself. Hi, I’m Liam.”

“Hi, I’m Danielle.”

* * *

 

  **v.  Separate Ways (Forgiven, Sanctus Real)**

_In this life/I know what I’ve been/but here in your arms/I know what I am._

When Danielle grinned at Liam, his heart soared, knowing this was his wife, that they were together for the rest of their lives, through thick and thin.Their wedding had been simple, just the two of them and city hall, and a random passersby as their witness.

The problem was she never grinned anymore, not since Grace had been born. And he knew she wasn’t keeping her vows.

It was only confirmed when she set the papers on the table. “I don’t want anything in the divorce except what was already mine to begin with,” she said calmly. “I packed it up. Everything else is yours.”

“I’m keeping Grace,” he said simply, hoisting their daughter onto his hip. “I’ll sue for custody if I have to, but I rather we work this out. You can’t raise her on the road as a dancer, Dani.”

In a way, he knew it was always building up to this. He was too calm, too steady to be broken about this. Grace buried her face in his shoulder when Danielle reached for her.

“Alright. But I get to visit.”

“Of course you do,” Liam said softly. “You’re her mother. I’m not cutting you out of her life entirely. Though by all rights I should,” he added. “She doesn’t deserve this.”

“She’s two. She won’t even remember.” Danielle pressed a kiss to Grace’s forehead and then kissed Liam softly, bitterly. “I love you. I’m just not cut out for a settled down lifestyle.”

Then she picked up her bags and was gone.

Once Danielle was gone, her suitcases packed into the back of a taxi and divorce paper signed, Liam sank onto their bed and called his mum to ask her what he should do.

Grace played with her teddy bear on the carpet in front of him as he told his mum the entire story. “I don’t know what to do,” he finally confessed, trying to smile reassuringly at his daughter. “I really don’t.”

“Come home,” she said simply. “Come back here, and we’ll take care of you and Grace. I assume she’s with you?”

Liam nodded, then remembered she couldn’t see him. “Grace is here. But, mum, I’ve got my job. I can’t just leave. And what would I do for work there?”

“You’re a writer, aren’t you? Write.”

“I’ll keep it in mind, mum. But I think…I think I’ll stay here for awhile, see if I can’t get on by myself. Well. Not myself. I’ve got Gracie.”

 _And Zayn. He had Zayn, didn’t he?_  a small voice in the back of his head added.

Except, he didn’t. He hadn’t talked to Zayn in three years, and so that wasn’t really an option.

Once he hung up with his mum, he called the daytime preschool and enrolled Grace, then opened up his email and wrote a long letter to Zayn, praying it would get through this time.

* * *

 

  **vi.  Returning (Home, Daughtry)**

_I’m going home/to the place where I belong/where your love has always been enough for me._

Liam knocked on the familiar red door, heart pounding in his chest. In the past year, he and Zayn had fallen back into regular contact. Now that Liam was moving back home to take over the veterinary practice from the retiring Dr Hammond, it seemed like the perfect opportunity for the two most important people in Liam’s life to meet.

Except now, standing on a familiar porch, waiting to see how much his best friend had changed in the past six years, Liam couldn’t help but be a little scared.

He needn’t have worried. When Zayn answered the door, he was as familiar as ever.

“Liam! Hi! God, it’s good to see you again.” Zayn pulled Liam into a tight hug and then bent to get a look at Liam’s daughter. “And this sweetheart must be Grace,” he said.

“Yeah. Zayn, this is Grace. Grace, this is Zayn. Can you say hi?”

The little girl shook her head and hid behind Liam. Zayn knelt so he was on Grace’s level. “I heard you like Pokémon,” he said, and that got Grace’s attention real quick.

Grace nodded, beaming.

“I’ve got some old Pokémon cards in the living room.” Zayn led them there, where two familiar metal tins were resting on the coffee table.

Grace struggled to open the tin. Zayn gently helped her, and something Liam hadn’t realized was hidden away unlocked in his chest when he saw how gentle and careful Zayn was with his daughter.

Liam picked up a small handful of cards and fingered the soft frayed edges. “I remember these,” he said softly. He shuffled through the deck to find Squirtle. Then he flipped it over to show his name written in a child’s messy scrawl. “Weird how things turned out, isn’t it? The kids who had these cards wouldn’t have expected to be here.”

“You mean, you, divorced with a three year old daughter?” Zayn asked. “Or us back together, having forgotten everyone?”

“I don’t know. Both?” Liam took a long look at Zayn, seeing what was new and what was the same. Zayn’s eyes were still the same shade of coffee brown, but he’d finally grown into his body. And Liam could still read Zayn’s expressions and predict his thoughts.

“No one around here for you?” Liam asked.

“Still single,” Zayn said with a wry smile. “No one interesting enough. No one as interesting as you.”

Grace looked up with an eager yelp. “You have Eevee!” she said happily, waving the card. “Eevee’s my favorite,” she informed Zayn proudly. “I have a plushie.”

“That must be nice. ” Zayn’s smile was warm and genuine. “Why don’t we take the cards into the kitchen so your dad and I can have tea and you can have some cocoa, if that’s alright with your dad?”

“Please, Daddy, please?” Grace turned the full force of her puppy dog eyes onto her dad. Liam acquiesced quickly. He couldn’t really say no to his little girl very easily.

Grace gathered the cards up in her arm and followed her dad into the kitchen, where she settled onto the floor, fanning the cards out around her.

“How are you holding up?” Zayn asked, setting three mugs down on the kitchen table and switching the kettle on. “It couldn’t have been easy.”

“It’s been a whole year,” Liam pointed out. “Grace, sweetheart, why don’t you show Zayn your plushie?”

Grace nodded and toddled over to the small pile of coats and backpacks Zayn had left by the door, where she retrieved a large Eevee plushie that was nearly bigger than her entire torso. “Mom gave her to me,” she said proudly, offering it to Zayn. “S’ Eevvvee,” she said, giggling. “With three ‘v’s.”

“I like it very much.”

Grace flopped down on the floor and began playing with Eevvvee, leaving the two men to talk quietly. “Where are you staying?” Zayn asked.

“With Mum.” Liam shrugged. “It’s right next door, and she’s offered to help with Grace when I need to work.”

“What? No, you can stay here. I’ve got this big old house, and it’s just me anyways, ever since Mum died. Be like old times, you and me, and Grace too.”

“You know what? I think I’ll take you up on that. If you don’t mind having us.”

Zayn reached over and pulled Liam into a hug. “I bet you haven’t cried yet. When you’re ready for a cry, I’m here to listen,” he whispered, and Liam let go.

* * *

 

  **vii.  Marriage (These Things Take Time, Sanctus Real)**

_On the way to heaven/the truth unwinds/these things take time._

“Mum?” Liam asked softly, interrupting her stream of chatter.

“Hm?” she said absently, fixing his hair for the millionth time.

“Could you go talk to Zayn?”

That gave her pause. She pulled back to look him in the eye. “Can I ask why?”

“His mum isn’t here. And…you’re  _his_  mum as much as mine. I mean, he’s got…he’s got his sisters, but his da isn’t here, and his mum…” he trailed off.

“Passed away,” she completed, understanding. “Of course I will, sweets. But just for a bit. I want to see you before you walk down the aisle, love.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek and embraced him warmly. Liam closed his eyes and inhaled her comforting scent of lemon and roses, and then she was off, in a rustle of skirts and soft blonde hair, leading Grace by the hand.

Zayn was pacing nervously, watching Wahilya fix her smudged eyeliner.

“What if he realizes it’s a mistake,” he half-babbled, letting his worries show. “What if he realizes I’m not good enough for him? What if he thinks I can’t take care of Grace? I can’t lose either of them, I can’t, I _can’t_.”

“You hush that talk right now, Zayn Malik,” a firm voice commanded. “If I say you’re good enough for my son and granddaughter, you’re better than good enough and you’d best not argue with me. If anything, Liam doesn’t deserve you, what with how you’re putting up with this little one as well as Liam and his emotional baggage.”

Zayn turned, and there was Mrs Payne, Grace hiding behind her grandmother’s skirts. “Hi, Mrs Payne. Hey, Gracie. How are you, love?”

“Zayn!” And suddenly, Zayn’s arms were full of an enthusiastic four year old, kissing his cheek. “You look pretty.”

Wahilya stifled a snort at the little girl calling her tuxedo-clad brother pretty. Zayn, on the other hand, took the comment in stride and complimented Grace’s dress.

“Liam sent me over because he thought you’d be missing your mum,” Mrs Payne explains. “And he thought I could fill in for a bit. I think Gracie would stay if you asked her to.”

The little girl beamed and hugged Zayn again.

Half an hour later, when they were standing in front of the altar, Grace refused to let go of Zayn’s hand.

* * *

**viii.  Child (Never Grow Up, Taylor Swift)**

_I won’t let nobody hurt you/won’t let no one break your heart/and no one will desert you/just try to never grow up._

When Zayn and Liam finally had their first child together, by a surrogate, Grace was eleven years old. Zayn had insisted that Grace was as much his as Liam’s, and he was perfectly happy raising her alongside Liam.

Danielle had stopped by only twice in the past eight years, spending barely any time with any of them before flitting off into who-knew-where. Presents and letters arrived on intervals, at Christmas and on birthdays and the odd letter in the middle of September for no reason at all.

When she’d visited the first time, she had dragged Zayn off to “get to know my replacement,” as she put it. When they returned, Zayn was blushing and Danielle had kissed Liam on the cheek.

“I approve,” she whispered. “I know my opinion doesn’t count for much, but he’s absolutely perfect for you.”

Then, she’d kissed Grace on the forehead and swept out the door without so much as a backwards glance.

Zayn hadn’t minded filling in for Danielle—after all, he’d  _married_  Liam, and Danielle had divorced him and left, and Grace had needed another parental figure, so stepping in had been natural. Of course, Grace didn’t quite understand the difference between her Ma and her Da, both of whom she thought could have babies because they’d married Daddy.

It had been quite an awkward conversation explaining that babies had to come from women and Zayn was very much not a woman. It took even longer to explain that they were going to have a baby through a surrogate.

But it was worth it, when, on September 14th, the Payne-Maliks got a phone call that Samantha Adams was going into labor, bringing their twin children into the world.

Liam stayed home with Grace while Zayn went to the hospital—because Zayn was the biological father, he was allowed in the birthing room, but because Liam was only a step-parent, he wasn’t allowed. Instead, he took Grace out for ice cream and was waiting anxiously outside the hospital when Zayn came outside to tell him the twins were safely birthed.

Coming home three days later was an adventure—but even more interesting was Grace’s reaction to the new siblings she’d begged so much for.

“Grace, could you help your Dad warm up some milk for the babies?”

“No.”

Zayn frowned, looking up. “Grace, don’t pull that tone on me. I am your father and—”

“You’re not my father!” Grace screamed at him. Zayn felt like he’d been punched in the gut—he’d _raised_   her alongside Liam, and that hurt, hearing her claim he wasn’t her father. In the silence following her furious statement, she marched upstairs. The slam her door made echoed through the house.

Liam frowned, and carefully set JD down in the playpen. “I’ll go talk to her.”

Zayn shook his head, rubbing at his forehead wearily. “I should go do that. Figure out what she has against me.”

As he started down the hall towards Grace’s room, Liam grabbed him by the elbow and stopped him. “You know she doesn’t mean that, right? She loves you.”

Zayn tried to smile. “I know. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.” Liam let him go, and Zayn proceeded up the stairs to Grace’s room.

He knocked at her door. “Grace? Can I come in?”

There was no reply, so he pushed the door open and stepped into the purple lair that Grace called her room. “Grace Payne, what is going on with you?”

Zayn sat on the edge of Grace’s bed. He reached out and rubbed small circles into her back. “Grace, hey. You want to tell me what that blowup downstairs was all about?”

“You’re not my dad,” she mumbled into her pillow. “Danielle’s my mum, you’re not my dad.”

“Is this because I’m a man, and Danielle was a woman?”

She sniffled. “You’re not my  _dad_. You’re the guy my dad married.”

“So it’s not because I’m a guy? It’s because I’m not biologically related to you?”

Grace nodded, rolling over to face the wall. “You shouldn’t get to tell me what to do.”

“Grace, I have been there with you since you were three years old. That’s eight years, love. I took you to your first day of school and kissed your boo-boos. I help you with your math homework—god knows your Dad’s no good at it—and we make pancakes every Sunday morning. You are every bit my daughter, as much as Janessa is.”

For whatever reason, that made Grace cry harder.

“Grace? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

“You and Daddy aren’t going to love me anymore!”

Zayn’s forehead furrowed. “Of course we love you, Grace! You’re our big girl, of  _course_  we love you.”

“But you’ve got the babies now!”

“That’s not going to change anything, Gracie-girl. We still love you.”

“But Janessa and JD are yours, and I’m not!”

Understanding dawned on Zayn’s face. “You think because Janessa and JD were born, that I’m going to forget all about you. Oh, no, Grace. Of course I won’t. You’re my daughter too. Just because I’m not biologically related to you doesn’t mean I’m not your Da. Your Dad and I will still have time for you, I promise. Janessa and JD are just additions to our family, okay? There’s just five of us now, not three.” He stroked her back until she sat up and crawled into his lap, despite growing too large to fit easily years before. “I love you, Gracie-girl, my little ladybug. You’re still my big girl, and it doesn’t matter to me that you’re not my blood daughter, ‘cos you’re my daughter just the same. Nothing’s going to change that, not Janessa, not JD, and not anyone. You’re my girl, yeah? My special girl.”

He kissed her forehead and she nodded into his chest, sniffles and tears petering out.

“You wanna go meet your brother and sister now?” Zayn suggested once she was all done and he’d carefully wiped off her cheeks and blew her nose with a tissue. “You’re eleven, old enough to hold them.”

Grace smiled, and followed Zayn down the hall.

“Everything all better now?” Liam asked, cradling the still-whimpering Janessa in his arms. Grace nodded, her thumb tucked into her lip as she hid behind Zayn. “Gracie, don’t suck your thumb. Remember what Dr Sullivan said about braces?” She nodded, and pulled her thumb out of her mouth. “Do you want to come meet your brother and sister?”

Grace nodded, and came forward to see Janessa, finally calming her cries of distress as the elder girl crept forward.

“She doesn’t bite, Gracie-girl,” Zayn encouraged. “She hasn’t even got teeth yet.”

While Grace clearly took after Liam, with his sandy hair and pale skin, the twins both took after Zayn, with darker tinted skin and black hair. Zayn’s heart swelled as Liam carefully transferred Janessa to Grace’s arms.

“She’s so pretty,” Grace whispered.

“We’ll see if you still think that in three weeks, when her cries are keeping you up at night,” Liam said, rubbing his eyes. “You were a nightmare, Grace. Colic, and you were fussy to boot.”

Zayn shrugged and wrapped an arm around Liam’s shoulders. “We’ll take it as it comes. What do you think of your new sister, Grace?”

Grace looked up solemnly, but then broke out into a grin. “I like her!” Janessa cooed happily, smiling up at her sister.  “Can I meet JD?”

“JD’s sleeping right now,” Liam explained. “You can meet him later.”

Zayn smiled at his husband and his daughters, very proud and happy of how their little family was coming together, some of his and some of Liam’s, and all theirs.

* * *

**ix. Together (I Am Yours, The Afters)**

_You are all I need/every breath every step/you’re here with me/you gave your life for mine/to have me by your side._

There was never a truly horrible day in the Payne-Malik household. Usually there was some sort of redeeming factor, something to making it a bit more bearable. There had never been a day where that hadn’t happened.

Today was rapidly approaching the first day in Payne-Malik history to break that rule of thumb.

“Janessa, JD, if you’re not in the car in the next five minutes so help me god we will leave you behind!” he yelled. “Grace, where’s Emily?”

Immediately, Janessa and JD were down the stairs, backpacks in hand. At seven, they were very attached to their dads, and even the slightest threat of being left behind got them moving. Not that Liam would ever actually leave them behind.

“You know that threat doesn’t work on me, right?” Grace said in amusement as she sauntered into the kitchen, Emily toddling behind her. The younger girl was sucking her thumb. “I’m eighteen.”

“No, but I can threaten to take your phone,” Liam said seriously. “In the car, Grace. And—have you seen your Da anywhere?”

“Putting bags in the car,” Grace supplied helpfully and toted Emily off to the car.

Liam checked the downstairs rooms to ensure all lights were off and was double checking the kitchen for any stray toys one of the twins might have forgotten. Warm arms suddenly wrapped around his waist. “Calm down, love. You’re overthinking.”

“Why did we think it would be a good idea to take two seven year olds, a three year old and Grace to the seashore? How is this trip not going to end in blood and tears?”

“We’re going because we love our children and Grace wanted this for her birthday,” Zayn said calmly, rubbing small circles into Liam’s hip. “And I’ll stop you if you get the urge to go serial-killer on our children. Although I’d prefer you didn’t, because I am not dealing with the twins’ teenager phase alone.” Zayn kissed the side of Liam’s neck, as if to show he was kidding—not that Liam needed the reassurance. “I put all the bags in the car, we should be all set. Have you checked the upstairs?”

“Checked the upstairs, the downstairs, made sure the dog was safe over at the neighbor’s, with a list of care instructions, left emergency contact numbers with the neighbors and my mum, called your sisters and then my sisters, double checked that the kids packed what they needed and made sure we had a binkie for Emily if she gets too panicked without it,” Liam recited.

“So we’re all ready to go, then?” Zayn said slowly. Liam nodded. “All right then. You’ll be glad once we’re there, love.”

Zayn was right, Liam thought later. It hadn’t been too much of a nightmare, although he could have done without Emily’s temper tantrum on the train or Janessa’s pout once she realized they’d forgotten her stuffed toy rabbit or JD’s funk in a show of loyalty to his sister. And Zayn temporarily misplacing the tickets, that he could have gone without.

“You’re my favorite,” he informed an amused Grace. “You don’t cry, you pack your own belongings and I don’t have to bribe you to get you to behave.”

Fifteen meters away, Zayn was helping Emily build a drip castle and keeping an eye on the twins, who were looking for shells to decorate Emily’s castle. Liam was struck by how little Zayn had changed in the past decade and a half, especially at how much Emily looked like Grace had as a little girl. Zayn looked up then and met Liam’s eyes. He winked, sending Liam into a fit of giggles. Grace laughed along.

“I’ll watch the littles so you and Da can have a date night,” she offered.

“I thought you were here to scope out cute boys,” Liam teased. Grace immediately went red. “Or do you really have it that bad for Mitchell?”

“Well, yes. But you and Da have been really busy since Emily was born, and I figured you’d like some alone time.” There was a content silence in their area of the beach while JD chased Janessa with a bucket of water and Emily happily patted the sides of her castle.

“Are you happier with Da than you were with Mum?” Grace asked softly, drawing her knees up to her chest.

Liam considered the question. “They both made me happy. But in different ways. Danielle was like fireworks—bright and brilliant and I couldn’t help but be drawn to her. You had to notice her—she was so special. But fireworks are only beautiful for so long, and they get boring. Zayn’s like…Zayn’s like the sun. He’s warm, and he lights up my life. He’s always been there, and he’ll always be there. I couldn’t live without him, and even when I was with Danielle, he was there, lighting my life. He’s steady, and I love him. You can’t compare them, they’re so different. But…I’m glad it’s Zayn I’m spending my forever with.”

Grace nodded. “I think Mitchell might be my Danielle,” she whispered.

Liam sat up. “You had better not be getting pregnant or married before you’re thirty, young lady,” he said sternly, shaking a finger at her. Grace giggled and shook her head.

“Not gonna happen, Dad. I want to go to university and have a career.”

Just then, the twins came running up with a hermit crab to show them, and Liam had to make appropriately impressed noises, and by that time Emily was done with her castle and Zayn carried her over, and the Payne-Maliks just ended up in a tangle of limbs with Grace shrieking about how there was a live hermit crab somewhere in their pile

Liam didn’t think he’d ever been happier in his life.

“So. Glad you came?” Zayn whispered in his ear, humming the opening bars to that infuriating song.

Liam just laughed and tickled Janessa.

* * *

**x.  Moving On (Cinderella, Steven Curtis Chapman)**

_I will dance with Cinderella/while she is here in my arms/because all too soon/the clock will strike midnight/and she’ll be gone._

Zayn stood back while Grace danced with her biological father, sending a suspicious glare in her new husband’s direction. He actually liked the kid, and he supposed he could drop his intimidating act now that they were actually married and he didn’t have to worry about some random boy knocking up his eldest daughter.

He didn’t particularly want to. Grace, as old and worldly as she thought she was at twenty-four, still didn’t know everything and he couldn’t help but want to protect her from everything that might hurt her, just as he wanted to protect his younger children.

Speaking of his younger children, he looked over to see thirteen-year-old Janessa watching Grace with stars in her eyes, obviously daydreaming about her own wedding. Her twin JD was busy flirting with Grace’s husband’s brother’s daughter. Zayn made a mental note to discourage that. None of his children would be dating until they were at least twenty. Hell, they’d barely let Mitchell into the house, and only after a lengthy interrogation about his motives. And then little Emily, little nine year old Emily, was delicately eating her slice of cake.

As the song finished with a quiet flourish, Grace held her hand out to Zayn, and gestured for him.

“You sure, sweetheart? You’ve already got one father-daughter dance.”

“You’re my dad too, Da,” Grace said quietly, and pulled him out to the center of the dance floor. “I don’t ever remember you  _not_  being my dad.”

Zayn kissed her forehead, remembered the first time Grace ever called him Da. It’s one of his most treasured memories, little Grace asking him to teach her to dance for a tea party when she was five, and calling him Da as she stood on his feet and whirled around the room.

“I was only doing what I was supposed to,” Zayn said, smiling as her eyes light up, clearly remembering exactly the same thing. “And it was my pleasure to teach you.”

“And, you’re the one who taught me to dance for prom, when Daddy was busy with Emily and the twins,” Grace added. “So, see? You’re my dad, just like Liam’s my dad.”

Zayn smiled and spun her around, singing along softly to the song. When it finished, he walked her over to Mitchell. Rather than smiling fiercely (he’d been told several times that it was creepy and he should stop scaring the poor boy like that by his loving husband), he patted Mitchell on the shoulder and hugged him.

“Welcome to the family,” he whispered, before passing him off to Grace, who looked suspicious.

Zayn retreated to the wall where his husband lingered, and watched as their daughter danced her first dance with her husband.

“I’m still not sure if I approve,” Zayn grumbled, and Liam shushed him. “Of her growing up, that is. Mitchell’s pretty alright.”

Liam wrapped an arm around his waist, and kissed him softly. “He’s perfect for her. Now shush. I’m imagining my grandchildren.”

Zayn’s laugh was full, rich and deep, and it was exactly what Liam wanted to hear.

* * *

 

**xi. Contentment (Smile, Uncle Kracker)  
** _Just the thought of you can drive me wild/oh you make me smile/don’t know how I’d live without you/cause everytime that I get around you/I see the best of me inside your eyes._

“We’re old,” Zayn groaned, looking at his greying hair in the mirror. “We’re old farts, make it stop, Liam!”

“Oh, hush you,” Liam teased, tightening his tie. “You’re not that old. You’re only 58. Stop whining.”

A quiet knock sounded at their hotel room door. Liam kissed Zayn and crossed the room to open it, revealing Grace, her daughter Maisie balanced on her hip. “Dad, Da, you ready to go? Em’ll kill us if we’re late.”

Zayn emerged from the bathroom, his tie still undone. “Liam,  _help_.”

Liam chuckled and knotted his husband’s tie while Grace rolled her eyes at her dads. “Dorks, both of you. Janessa and JD are already there. We’re going to be late.”

“Keep your pants on, Miss Grace,” Liam scolded. Zayn took Maisie from her mother’s arms.

“Hi, Maisie,” he crooned. “We’re going to go see your Aunt Emily graduate. Bet you wish your brothers were here.”

“I don’t,” Grace said tartly. “How you managed the four of us is beyond me. I’ve only got three, and no twins, and they’re little monsters. Except for Maisie, of course.”

She led her dads down the hall, and they spent a quiet car ride to Emily’s university in near silence, the only noise Maisie’s happy babbling.

After the ceremony, Emily met up with them for dinner, and they were all together for the first time since Christmas. Janessa and JD teased their little sister mercilessly about how she’d tripped on stage. Grace, with Maisie napping in her lap, defended her sister and reminisced with embarrassing tales about all three of her younger sibling’s childhoods.

Liam laced his fingers with Zayn’s under the table, watching their children with amusement and love.

“Can’t believe you’re all grown up,” Zayn said, slightly misty-eyed.

“Daaaaa,” Janessa and JD groaned together, still in sync even though they currently lived several hundred miles apart. “Not again with the  _old_  thing.”

“Yes, please, not again with the old thing,” Liam said. His eyes were twinkling with mischief, not unlike his eldest daughter’s. “Your father here was getting all teary over you all being grownups. And he had a right panic this morning about his grey hair.”

Zayn glared at Liam while their children giggled. “I thought we agreed not to mention it.”

“I think it makes you look dignified,” Grace said diplomatically, reassuring her Da and shooting a discreet warning glare at her sisters, who immediately shut up. “And you’re not that old.”

“Well, Em-bug’s all graduated now!” Janessa changed the subject, and suddenly everyone was teasing Emily goodnaturedly.

“Well, I remember when you came home from the hospital,” Grace said, bopping her younger sister on the nose. “I was fifteen and you were this wrinkly little thing. The twins were four then, and you just cried,  _all_  the time. Dad said he’d never seen such a fussy baby.”

Emily turned to stare at her biological father. “You did  _not_!”

“It wasn’t me!” Liam defended.

“Me either!” Zayn countered.

“Well then, who said it?” Emily demanded. “I haven’t got three Dads, I’ve just got Dad and Da. And Danielle,” she added belatedly. “But she’s not a Dad. She’s a Step-mum.” She paused. “Wait. Is she my step mum if she was married to Dad before and then Dad divorced her?”

Everyone at the table froze while they thought. “I don’t think so,” JD said finally, trailing off. “Google it?”

Liam laughed, drawing everyone’s attention. “I actually know the answer to this. I know, weird that Dad actually knows something, right?” All four kids laughed—they’d learned early on that Da was the one to ask with for school help because Dad got everything confused. Zayn smiled indulgently at his husband. “Zayn is Grace’s stepdad because he’s the man I married after I divorced her mom. Danielle isn’t your stepmom because I didn’t marry her after Zayn—she hasn’t got an actual title, not legally at least. Go ahead, look it up, but I’m right.”

Janessa actually took her phone out and looked it up. When it turned out Liam was right, he gloated for the rest of dinner.

That night, as they were preparing for bed, Liam looked over to Zayn. “We did pretty alright with them, didn’t we?”

“Well, none of them came out too terribly mentally scarred,” Zayn quipped. “Well. JD might have been a little damaged, with three sisters, but it wasn’t too bad.”

“And we managed the sex talk alright, for being two grown men with daughters,” Liam added. “I’m proud of that.”

“We managed, and we got them through,” Zayn agreed.

In the next few years, they would deal with another wedding  (Janessa) and a pregnancy scare with JD’s girlfriend. Emily would move back in with them and then move out, and Grace would endure a long, drawn out divorce.

But overall, they were happy and life seemed to have worked out for the best.

* * *

 

**xiii. Forever (Remind Me Who I Am, Jason Gray)**

_Tell me once again who I am to you/who I am to you/tell me/lest I forget who I am to you/that I belong to you._

Liam always knew it would be him who went first. His life had been fuller, had been filled with more disasters and tragedies and that just meant his heart was going to give out sooner. The last few years of his life, he’d told Zayn over and over that he’d best get used to waking up to an empty bed, because he sure as hell wasn’t going to go first.

Zayn just wasn’t expecting it to happen so soon.

In retrospect, it probably made sense that Liam had passed on, because they were in their eighties, and they’d lived long, full lives, with children and grandchildren, and the occasional visit from Danielle, who never did settle down. They’d raised their family in the house Zayn had grown up in, expanding the house when necessary and selling the house Liam had grown up in to a family who ran a horse stable.

Zayn had worked there on occasion, knowing this land better than anyone alive. Their youngest daughter, Emily, had married their neighbor’s son, and showed a surprising amount of horse sense. She taught classes and rode and was happier than Zayn had ever seen her before. Her children loved coming to visit him, little tykes who wreaked havoc and looked like butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths. He spoiled them and watched them after school, when their parents were working.

Emily didn’t let him work on the ranch anymore, not in the three years since Liam’s death.

He didn’t mind. He’d put in more than seventy years here, lived on this land his whole life. He wasn’t going to leave unless it was for parts unknown with Liam by his side, and with Liam gone…well, there was nothing to die him down anymore. Besides that, he was almost ninety. That was old enough for him to appreciate spending time with his grandchildren, what little he had left.

Liam had a word, one he was particularly fond of,  _ya’aburnee_. He’d learned it drifting in and out of Zayn’s house as a child, hearing Zayn’s mother call it after her husband. He’d made Zayn explain it to him when they were older.

Zayn vividly remembered that conversation, how he’d explained it meant “you bury me” and how Liam’s eyes had gone wide and his nose crinkled up in confusion.

“No no, it means…I hope I die before you do, because I can’t bear to live without you,” Zayn had clarified, reaching up on tiptoes to snag a bag of crisps from the top kitchen cupboard. “S’the forever kind of love.”

Even then, at seven, he’d known he wanted to share that kind of forever with Liam and his big brown eyes. Even then, he’d known he was going to have his heart broken by his best friend, but that Liam would always come back in the end.

He’d been right. Liam had left, and had broken his heart when he’d come home, carrying Grace in his arms and knocking quietly at his door.

But Liam had lovingly stitched it right back together, knotting Grace in as well. And then they’d added the twins and Emily, and he’d been complete for a long time. Eighty years was plenty of time to love, and eighty-six was plenty old to die.

At least, that was what Zayn told himself.  Truth was, he missed Liam. You didn’t spend sixty years together, so in sync that words weren’t needed without being a little codependent or a lot in love. He missed Liam in every breath, in every heartbeat.

Nowadays, his thoughts were haunted by Liam, the many years they’d spent loving each other, even before they knew what love was. He’d never forget waking up to find Liam still and unwaking, body still warm even as his blood cooled.

Liam had known, he realized down. The night before he’d been admitted to the hospital, he’d rolled over and kissed Zayn so softly, and told him I love you in a million ways, ending with _ya’aburnee_. Zayn had dismissed it as Liam being sentimental—he now realized it was Liam saying goodbye.

He missed Liam, sitting on the front porch and talking, how his hand fit neatly into Liam’s and how Liam’s laughed filled him with joy. It was painful to remember all these beautiful, wonderful things, but he also cherished the memories and the daily reminders he saw in his children.

Emily worried about him, he knew that. As if summoned by his thoughts, she emerged from the house to lean on the porch with him. Quietly, she gave him a mug of tea and sipped her own coffee. Her kids were asleep—Angelica and Jimmy, near-identical brunette balls of energy.

“Morning, Da,” she said. “What’re you thinking about?”

“Your Papa.” Zayn drank some of his tea, too sweet and too hot for his taste. “Days like this I miss him most.”

“You two were really in love, weren’t you?” Emily asked. It wasn’t the first time she’d brought this up—Zayn maintained that as a girl she didn’t have the emotional capacity to appreciate their sweeping love story (Liam had hit him playfully when he’d first brought it up, fifteen years ago, claiming it was the other way around, that Zayn didn’t understand how ordinary love was).

“We were. And I miss him,” Zayn said, staring out at the brilliant pink sky, waiting for the sun to rise. “He was my best friend. Grew up right here in this house, met when we were, what, two years old? Of course he was my best friend, wasn’t anyone else. And then he just…grew on me. Broke my heart when I found out he’d married Danielle, but when he brought back Gracie, I had to forgive him. It was just something we had to go through. But I keep waking up in the morning, expecting him to be right there. You’d think three years would be long enough, but not really. Not when there were sixty odd years where whenever I’d wake up, he’d be there. I miss the dinners he’d make, and how he’d try to dance but always failed. I  _miss_  him.”

Emily, the spitting image of Liam—if he were female—hugged her Da.

“There’s an elderly singles club in town,” she suggested. “They get together and play Mario Kart and chess and sometimes dance dance revolution, although they might have stopped once Louis Tomlinson put out his hip.”

They both winced, knowing even that wouldn’t stop Louis from doing it again.

“I don’t need anyone but my family, Em.” Zayn’s voice was calm and soothing, what his children called his reasonable-parent voice. Emily blushed, feeling like a little kid who’d been caught meddling where she didn’t belong again. “And Louis has never had his head on straight. He went _more_  bonkers after his husband died.”

Emily sighed. “You miss Harry too?”

“Mm. Funny, funny guy, although I never  _did_  understand the tunafish prank. It’s just that everyone’s dying. Makes an old guy feel lonely.”

“Uncle Ni’s still around,” Emily countered. “And so’s Aunt Danielle.”

“Aunt Danielle is just as bonkers as Louis Tomlinson. And don’t even get me  _started_  on Horan.”

“You like him, Da, stop pretending you don’t. He was your best friend, after Dad.” It was true—all throughout Emily’s childhood, Niall had been in and out of the house, usually to raid their fridge or crash on their couch when Cher decided to punish him. He’d spoiled all of the Payne-Malik kids rotten, despite having six of his own, and twelve grandchildren besides. As Zayn’s work partner, it was inevitable that their lives wouldn’t merge together, and it became even more inevitable when JD fell in love with Niall’s youngest daughter, Annabelle.

“I don’t have to admit it.” Zayn ruffled through his jacket pockets to find his packet of cigarettes, and when he came up empty, he glared at his youngest daughter. “Emily Ann Payne Malik Smith, where did you put my cigarettes?”

She looked at him innocently. “I haven’t the slightest clue what you mean.”

“Emily!”

“Smoking’s bad for you, Da.”

“It hasn’t killed me yet,” he groused, taking another sip of tea. “Don’t deny an old man his small pleasures.”

She pouted and fished the packet from her own pocket. “I hate it when you play that card.”

“I hate it when you steal my cigarettes,” he countered. He lit one and took a deep drag, feeling the warm smoke curl inside his lungs against the cool morning air. “If they’re going to kill me, they’re taking their sweet time doing it.”

“Da!”

“I’m not going to go off myself,” he grumbled. “Jesus Christ, Em. Li made me promise I wouldn’t.”

“Well, Janessa said she would be over at noon,” Emily said, wisely changing the subject. “She’s bringing Uncle Niall—stop frowning, you two get on like a house on fire, stop pretending you don’t—and her husband and the kids. JD—or actually Annabelle—said they’d be over at 12:30. And Grace is coming at one.” She elbowed her dad. “We’ll all be here for your birthday.”

Zayn nodded, but didn’t tell her he thought it was going to be one of his last with his family. He was tired, and Liam was calling him home.

* * *

**xiii. Eternity (When I Get Where I’m Going, Brad Paisley)**

_When I get where I’m going/there’ll be only happy tears/I will shed the sins and struggles I have carried all these years._

Emily sat in the waiting room at the doctor’s office, waiting for her Da to finish up his business. When he emerged, he looked wearier than he had when he’d gone in.

“What is it, Da?” she asked, rising to her feet. She was in her mid fifties, had two children of her own, and she took the best care she could of her only remaining parent.

“Cancer,” he said slowly, waving off the assistance she offered. “Should’ve guessed.”

“Lung cancer?” she guessed, wondering if it was his smoking habit, and if she should have intervened earlier, back when they were kids.

“No, Em-bug,” Da said, signing off a form and thanking the desk nurse politely. “Colon cancer. Late stages, too late to stop. I’ve got a few months left before it’s spread enough to kill me.”

“Oh,  _Da_.” Emily sat down heavily on her chair. “What are we going to do?”

“Same thing we did for your Dad,” Da said wearily. “Wait until it’s done and say goodbye.”

The end was slow, a year in the making. He stayed at home until he couldn’t get out of bed in the morning, then allowed Emily to move him to a convalescent hospital, knowing he wouldn’t get better.

 “Grandda?” Seventeen-year old Ruby poked her head in the door of her grandda’s room. “You awake, Grandda?”

“Ruby, come sit.” Grandda’s voice was soft, as always, but it conveyed so much love that Ruby’s heart felt like it was about to burst. Ruby padded quietly into the room and sat on the chair next to Grandda’s bed. “Would you mind opening the curtains? I can’t quite get up myself.”

Ruby stood and pulled open the fine white lace curtains, and sunlight flooded the room, illuminating her Grandda’s face. It always surprised her how handsome her grandfather was, even though he was past ninety and dying. She could see the young man he used to be in the lines of his face, buried beneath deep crow’s feet and laughlines, a lifetime’s worth of joys and worries woven across his face like a map.

She’d seen pictures, and videos, of her Grandda and Grandpa as young men, of Great-Uncle Niall and Great-Aunt Danielle, how they’d never quite lost the light in their eyes.

 “How are you, grandda?”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid, Ruby.” Grandda admonished, reaching out and rapping Ruby across the knuckles with a bony finger. “It’s my body that’s going, not my mind.” Ruby nodded sheepishly, remembering everything her family had been through.

“Well, are you okay?”

“I’ve been better, and I don’t think I’ll be getting back up again. But tell me, how’s school going for you?”

Ruby grinned and launched into a tale about the relationship drama that surrounded her life at school, knowing Grandda would roll his eyes and ask if they had no sense, but also that Grandda loved this kind of thing, this whirlwind of relationships and drama that he never had growing up.

Grandda told her all the stories about when he was young, what he can remember that hasn’t been blurred with time. Ruby’s heard about the summer nights spent with Grandpa on the porch with a shared cigarette and the stars, hummed harmonies and wishes that everything will end up all right, and she’s heard about how Grandda always knew it was going to be Grandpa for him, how he never looked at anyone else and had his heart broken when Grandpa married Great-Aunt Danielle. She’s heard all the stories, and she’s written them down, learned what it was like to be a married gay couple in a small town in a time when that was strange, everything Grandda cared to tell her.

Grandda listened with his eyes closed, imagining what Liam would say about all this. The world has changed so much—the first female president in the US, medical cures thought impossible, a colony on Mars. Things that he wasn’t sure how much he trusted, but things he knew would make his descendant’s lives so much easier.

He’s the last of the old generation, the last of them born before the new millennium. He’d watched as they’d all passed on, and at ninety three, the hardest part of being alive was missing those who had passed on, living until there was nothing left to live for.

But there was still a bit more for him to see, his children and great grandchildren, and now that he’d done that…well. There was nothing holding him here anymore.

Ruby seemed to sense Zayn’s calm acceptance for the end and pauses in her narration to give Grandda a searching look. “How long?” she asked quietly.

Grandda opened his wise brown eyes and meet Ruby’s green ones dead on. “I haven’t the slightest idea, Ruby. But when I die, I don’t want you to cry for me.”

She isn’t sure why Grandda would ask this, but Grandda is  _Grandda_ , and he wouldn’t ask anything like that without a good reason.

“Okay. But can I miss you?”

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.” Silence falls on the little hospital room, as Zayn remembered a conversation he’d had with Liam right before his husband’s death seven years before.

_“What do you think it’s like, where we’re going?”_

_“Where we’re going?” Zayn asked, clutching Liam’s hand tightly, as if it would keep him grounded here on earth. It wasn’t too far off of a presumption, Zayn reasoned, since Liam had grown so light and thin that he seemed as if he’d float off into the sky if anyone let go for even a second._

_“Yeah. Where we’re going. Heaven.”_

_“I dunno, Li. I’ll bet it’s beautiful, though.”_

_“Zayn?”_

_“Hm?”_

_“I’m going to ride a raindrop.”_

_Zayn laughed, clear and true. “I’m sure you will, Li. If it’s impossible, you’ll find a way.” He met Liam’s eyes and rubbed away a tear._

_“When you get there, we’ll do it together.”_

_“Okay, Li.”_

_“The first thing I’m gonna do is learn to fly.”_

_“Okay, Li.”_

_Liam’s eyes fluttered shut and his voice grew drowsier._

_“It’ll be nice to go to sleep for a good long while. I’m damn tired.”_

_“I bet you are, Li.”_

_“Don’t cry for me, Zayn. Don’t be sad. Promise me.”_

_Zayn choked back a sob as tears began to roll down his face. “I won’t, Li. I promise.” He hurriedly dashed away the tears, biting back a sob._

_“G’night, Zayn.”_

_“G’night, Liam.”_

_Liam’s breath shallowed out, and Zayn leaned over to press a kiss to his husband’s lips. He’d promised ‘til death do us part, and he was going to carry it through._

_Zayn whispered a prayer, that tonight wouldn’t be the night Liam didn’t wake up, but it seemed God had other plans. As the night stretched out into hours like dollops of taffy, Liam’s breaths slowed, until they simply didn’t happen._

_A doctor came in and put her hand on Zayn’s shoulder._

_“I’m sorry, Mr. Malik. He’s gone.”_

_“I know that.” Zayn said calmly, slipping the wedding band off of Liam’s hand. “I’m going to need to use your phone. There are people I need to inform.”_

Ruby knew when her grandda got lost in his own memories that it did no good to try to draw him out.

“Don’t cry for me.” Grandda said suddenly, looking her granddaughter in the eye. “Promise me.”

“I promise.” Grandda was grasping Ruby’s hand in an almost painful grip, and Ruby bit her lip so as not to gasp out in pain.

“Tell me more about your day,” Grandda asked softly, and Ruby complied as Grandda’s grip slackened a bit, still firm enough to reassure that he was here but not so tight as to be painful.

When Ruby left, it was with a sense of finality. She knew she wasn’t going to see Grandda alive again.

And she was right.

The funeral was short and to the point. Emily spoke, then Grace. Janessa was too weepy to speak much, but JD read a brief poem. Each of his grandchildren placed a rose on his casket, and then they listened as Grace led them in prayer.

Ruby pressed a kiss to Grandda’s cheek before the coffin was closed and lowered into the ground, next to Liam.

She refuses to cry. Grandda hadn’t wanted it.


End file.
